


People Suits and Human Veils

by palpablenotion



Category: Hannibal (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Demon!Hannibal, Demonic Possession, Episode Related, Gen, No Actual Character Death, Psychic Abilities, it's explained in the notes, psychic!Will
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:35:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palpablenotion/pseuds/palpablenotion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter was dead and so was the schmuck whose body he'd stole. The doctor may've liked inflicting pain, but he couldn't tolerate suffering. It made Will wonder how he'd ever thought psychiatry would be an appropriate profession to hide out in, what with his constant desire to snuff out all those pathetic curs that would come to him, sniffling over the most mundane things.</p><p> </p><p>Or, That One Where Hannibal Lecter is a Demon and Will Graham is a Psychic, But Nobody Will Admit Anything</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> The lore in this is based off of the Supernatural series. So you have the Hannibal plot with Supernatural's rules. Will is a psychic, which is sort of open ended but I'm using as explanation for his mad profiling skills. Hannibal is a demon, which means he died as a human, went to hell, was tortured until his soul became a dark evil thing, then escaped from hell as a demon to possess someone. That someone, with the demon in him, is the Dr. Hannibal Lecter we all know and love. He basically can't be killed except with super special weapons (which will not appear herein), but could potentially be exorcised. I haven't decided where we're going yet. Depending on where the story goes, I may post a link to Superwiki's demon info page.

Will knew what Hannibal was the second he'd stepped foot in the same room as the creature. The hairs on the back of his neck had been tingling for near an hour before Jack called him down, so he had known before, too, but couldn't place who or what quite yet.

Lack of eye contact helped not to tip his own hand, though he couldn't stop his distaste from showing. Lucky him, Lecter had chosen psychiatry to toil away at, giving him the perfect out.

It was well known that Will Graham detested psychiatry.

He had stalked out of the room, barely able to keep from all out running once clear of the glass walled view from Jack's office. He couldn't tell yet anything distinct, like relative age or if he had more of a classification than 'demon' but Will didn't need his abilities to tell him Lecter was powerful. The kind of powerful inherent in a soul long before damnation, that makes it so easy for the perverted, bastardized version to walk out of hell and take over some poor schmuck's life.

It wasn't just a meat suit Lecter was wearing; Will could tell from his little exposure, the demon that was Hannibal Lecter had made that meat suit his home. He'd hollowed it out, Will was sure, smothering and destroying the soul that was supposed to live there, and stared _decorating_. 

Something he would learn very quickly about Hannibal Lecter is that, possibly above all else, he loved his decorating. Will didn't know if the body he was in had been wealthy prior to possession nor how long he'd been in it, but the demon had - instead of squandering whatever wealth he had access to - filled his coffers to overflowing.

It would be quite the story, Will was sure, how Hannibal Lecter had accumulated that wealth. Will was almost willing to risk detection to find out, but demons had a habit of not appreciating the psychic arts.

Detection, exposure, expulsion. These were things no demon wanted.

These were also things Will didn't want, considering his "gifts." They were why he and his father had to move around so much in his youth - flee was more like it. Weird Will Graham who knew things he shouldn't, saw things he couldn't. Felt things that frightened him.

He was in college before he figured out what was wrong with him. Dragged to a fortune teller by classmates he was desperately trying to fit in with, she'd known as soon as she grabbed his hand to read his palm. He'd seen the recognition in her eyes, felt the zing of understanding flow through his veins.

"You can accomplish great things, William Graham," she had said, just for a moment losing her affected accent.

He came back later that night without anyone else to overhear.

"Have you not realized your gift?" she had asked. "It is strong within you, but buried deep. Feel no shame, this is who you are."

Though it explained everything, it didn't stop him from hiding it. He did research. Psychic, seer, clairvoyant, spiritualist. There were so many terms, was so much lore.

It had been quite the journey since then and eventually he'd learned about other things, like demons. He'd really had no choice, being a cop in New Orleans. Will hadn't known what possessed him to return home after all these years, but eventually would come to realize there's no better way to discover yourself than to sink right into your very roots. And New Orleans was overrun with all things supernatural.

And, above all else, he learned how to hide from these things.

Some psychics used their gifts to help law enforcement. Some would help combat the tide of otherworldly forces a normal man had no hope of resisting. Will had attempted to let his curse, as he saw it, make him a good cop. When that didn't work, he went to the FBI and was turned down, offered a teaching position as consolation.

There wasn't really anything he had to turn to, so he'd taken it, hoping that your general creature would avoid the nation's best investigators as a rule.

And now one has walked right into the office of the head of the BSU. And Jack seems to want him, Will Graham, to be analyzed by it.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some monsters are demons and some, as Will Graham knows all too well, are human.

When Will opened his door and there stood the very thing he had been dreading, it would be a lie to say he didn't have to fight the urge to slam the door in Hannibal's face.

Doors could barely stop men if they were motivated properly. It was best not to antagonize the creature with supernatural strength. Especially while in only his underwear.

"May I come in?" the thing says, prim and proper as can be and seemingly unconcerned with his state of undress and, under his person suit, pleased with his state of duress.

"Where's Crawford?" Will demands instead of answering, a life line he hates to grab but unable to shake the residual fear that hit his when he opened the door to a demon's smiling face.

He feels a ripple come from the creature before him but, to Hannibal's credit, it is completely below the surface. Typically, he doesn't get words from a reading - avoids reading someone else altogether - but the words are painted in big bold letters within Hannibal's mind, as if he needs to grab hold of them to keep his inaction:

**FEAR MAKES WILL GRAHAM RUDE**

When Hannibal repeats his earlier question after delivering the chilling news that it will be "their adventure today," Will has to turn from him to regroup. That statement is still resounding through the creature, a mantra perhaps or just an echo of how loudly it was first spoken in its mind. He isn't sure the significance yet, but knows that this one statement will reveal more to him about Hannibal than any scene reading has revealed about any of the killers he's chased after.

He balks as Hannibal presents his food and Will knows with a sudden surety that sautéed and smelling delicious are the lungs of Cassie Boyle in that protein scramble. He can ear, just off from being audible, her muffled cries as her lungs were taken from her.

It's the first thing he takes a bite of, because Will Graham is afraid of this beast and he knows without a doubt that this is a test, a hurdle. Maybe he doesn't know what Hannibal would do, yet, if he declined, but he can guess where it would lead.

Will had his own mantra he lived up to, and that was to never let a soul find out about him and what he could really do.

So he eats the remnants of Cassie Boyle, answers questions as they're presented, and tries to maintain conversation to the best of his abilities, forcing himself for once to be sociable.

When they leave the construction site, he knows Hannibal is darkly curious about something with an undercurrent of amusement, but he'd been close enough to that the entire morning.

Upon seeing Hobbs shove his wife out the front door, her throat cut, deep and unsalvageable, Will knows exactly what had Hannibal amused as they left that site behind. He can't stop himself from shaking, full body tremors of deep, life shattering shock coursing through him - an echo of Mrs. Hobbs he is unable to rid himself of. He feels himself dying as he runs into that house, can hear the tinny sound of Hannibal as he says, " **They know** " and now he is tasting the faintest hint of bile, feels the tightness of hyperventilation, and knows the cause of both as soon as he sees her.

Abigail Hobbs is a normal teenage girl who had her soul darkened by perfectly human behavior. Her fear would have been palpable to anyone but Will could also feel her sense of betrayal and finality.

On one level, she had always expected this would be how it ended but she also had reason to believe it shouldn't.

Will never actually felt himself pulling the trigger. He knows he did. He knows he pulled the trigger ten times. What he felt was the release of Garrett Jacob Hobbs life as it leaked out into the ether and he began trembling for a whole other reason.

Will had heard about warlocks who, instead of making packs with demons, fed off the lives of people to grant them powers. They got addicted to it, unfettered by any earthly restriction, until they had to be put down like dogs by hunters.

Panicked, Will released the energy that had him feeling giddy, immediately regretting it as he could have used it to help Abigail. She stared up at him with those blue, unseeing eyes, and all he could do is what any other idiot could. Put pressure on it and hope for the best. His hands were, rather gently, pushed aside as Hannibal knelt amidst the blood and covered the wound with his own hands. Will felt his unnatural powers seeping out, just a little, to save her life, just a bit. He also felt himself being observed.

Will glanced up and for a moment he could see past the murky brown that made up Hannibal Lecter's irises into the bloody mass writhing beneath, within, like the worst sort of dust storm, gritty gritty smoke. Like chalk made into gas or sand made into water vapor, swirling in some convoluted mass within the man before him.

And just like that it was gone.

Just like that, Will was back in his body and Hannibal had never left his. The doctor was staring resolutely down at Abigail, all stern concentration and Will had never been more terrified of any creature's power in his life.


End file.
